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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496915">A Heart, Closing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonespell/pseuds/bonespell'>bonespell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>These Are The Things We're Made Of [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good!, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade: Through The Ages, and let me confirm this makes sense, and they're all making him feel bad, as they should., but it's backwards, look i know you saw those relationship and character tags, okay i'm not funny i'll shut up lmao, regret his actions, source: dude trust me, the plot of a christmas carol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:21:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonespell/pseuds/bonespell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is this not the path you have carved for yourself? You dare not take responsibility for the consequences of your reckless digging? Look what you’ve done!”</p><p>	“I haven’t done anything!” Techno cries, clamping his hands over his ears and hating how pathetic he sounds. Somehow, Other-Techno’s voice remains crystal clear over the rushing wind that threatens to bowl Techno over.</p><p>	“He wanted to be your friend,” Other-Techno hisses into his ear, in front of him suddenly. “And you used him just like you think everyone used you.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Technoblade &amp; Ranboo (Mentioned), Technoblade &amp; Technoblade, Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>These Are The Things We're Made Of [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Time Travel Fics That Water My Crops</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Heart, Closing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>oops i did it again</p><p>techno can't make anything easy lmao christmas carol but backwards go brr</p><p>as the series notes say, keep in mind that this fic isn't necessarily directly connected to I Wear The Chains I Forged In Life!!!</p><p>without further ado!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Techno despises being sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He can tell he’s feverish - he doesn’t even need to take his temperature in some way. He supposes it’s the good part of his heightened normal body temperature - he doesn’t ever need to wonder if he truly feels hot, because he never feels cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>(That’s a lie, his brain jeers at him. But you used to have people to keep you warm, didn’t you?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He hates that voice - it’s not like the other voices in his head, who demand blood and scream for violence. He’s all too eager at any given point to oblige them. He hates the voice that echoes through his head that sounds like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, privy to his darkest secrets and deepest fears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He should’t have fears - He’s the almighty, undefeatable Blood God with a thirst for violence and a perfect record for completion. Another voice that frequents his head, one that sounds suspiciously like his late twin, tells him that’s foolish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno sits up, trying to gauge how capable he is. He’d really rather not call Phil - he’s not a little kid anymore, and he doesn’t need his dad to hold his hand when he’s sick and brush his bangs from his forehead and tell him sweet things that end up being empty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He’s not too ill, he supposes. He unbuttons his heavy mantle and the top few buttons of his collared shirt to relieve some of the weight against his lungs before carefully, slowly shuffling to the kitchen. He’ll make a warm drink to clear his sinuses and take the day off to sleep, and he’ll be right as rain by morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He leaves a hasty note on the door for Ranboo to please feed Carl, and he climbs up to his loft and curls under his covers. Something is off, but it’s likely just his ill self imagining things. He doesn’t get sick often - he’s not good at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He drifts off to sleep, ignoring the tingling in his head that he’s never felt before. He doesn’t have enough energy to worry - not enough to care. He’d rather sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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  <br/>
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</p><p>
  
  <span>Techno shoots awake like he does when night terrors hit - he feels light. He doesn’t feel the residual headache or the shaking that comes with after the terrors, and he doesn’t even remember one, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Well, if he’s up, he may as well take some of the medication Phil’d left with him for this exact situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno feels almost like he floats on his feet - Something is off, but he thinks it’s just his headache. (If he’d been paying closer attention, he’d realise he doesn’t have one - but he’s not paying attention. He’s single-minded in his goal of getting to the kitchen.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno climbs down the ladder and turns around and nearly stumbles into his open basement trapdoor in shock when he realises he’s in the living room of his childhood home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>It’s not the same as it was when he’d left - It’s missing Tommy’s things strewn about, and the wall of family photos. There’s no papers on the fridge, and he realises it only looked like this when he’d first arrived.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Memories he’d forgotten swirl around the forefront of his head, and he hates it. He’s blinking frantically, but it’s not going away, no matter how hard he rubs his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“We can share,” Wilbur tells him, and Techno stares at him with eyes he knows are stupidly wide.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Share?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah!” Wilbur gestures at the cake. “We can share! I’ve always wanted a twin!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno’s eyes finally land on the couch, and he sucks in a breath so quickly he almost chokes on it. Somehow, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the couch - But not a him he’s seen in a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>His hair is short, chin-length and unruly around his face. The cut is uneven, due to the haircut only being convenience - this younger version of him is glaring a hole into the blank wall. He fiddles with the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck and middle. Techno catches a glimpse of his skinny wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>This is the Techno that Phil’d taken under his wing, Techno realises. How is he here? How is this happening?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“You gonna say anything?” The kid on the couch asks, and Techno’s head snaps up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“You gonna say anything or just stare?” The kid meets eyes with him, and Techno hates that he remembers the exact emotions swirling now that he sees them. Techno keeps his hands in view as he approaches - He doesn’t remember a time where he wasn’t a fighter. He doesn’t know if he’d be surprised if this kid destroyed him, especially in his sickly state.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno takes a seat next to his kid self, and the kid’s eyes immediately latch onto his hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Like it?” Techno chuckles. “Grew it myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“How long did it take?” The kid breathes, reaching out to it and tentatively wrapping it around his fingers. Techno lets him - the reason he has his long hair is the same reason the kid wants it now. Letting him feel it won’t hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Eh, few years? Just gotta take care of it and it grows pretty quick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s cool,” The kid nods decisively. “Are you one of the people who lives here? Like Philza?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I…” Techno trails off, thinking carefully about his answer. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you who I was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The kid frowns. “Be like that, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The action reminds him so much of Tommy it physically hurts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>There are a few moments of silence, and then the kid opens his mouth again. Techno’s about to make a remark about how much he talks when-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“D’you think they’ll do me right here?” The kid asks, quiet and earnest. The question takes Techno aback - he so vividly remembers wondering that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“You can blow them out first,” Wilbur offers him with a smile.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s your-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s our cake, Technoblade. We’re twins now. We just talked about this.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah,” Techno nods after a moment of thinking. “They’re gonna give you a good home, I think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“You sure?” The kid’s eyes are full of naive, childish hope. Something in Techno churns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I…” Techno cannot meet his gaze, so he plasters on a soft smile. “Yeah, I am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“If you blow out the candles first, you get to be older,” Wilbur informs him, and Techno snorts gently.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“That a good thing or a bad one?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Not really sure if it changes anything, gonna be honest. Just thought you should know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>
  
  <span>Techno only closes his eyes for a moment, but then the atmosphere gets loud and he’s on a bench somewhere he hasn’t seen in a long time but still knows well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Sure enough, grinning, bloodied sword hefted over one shoulder, is himself again. He is young - nineteen, at the oldest - and he’s the champion of this world that Techno’d once called his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno inwardly snorts at his sense of fashion - he’d been far more flamboyant back then, hadn’t he? Far more fitting of his Blood God title - revelling in it, he’d dare add. Now, it’s just another thing that adds weight to the unhealthy curve of his spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The champion spots him, and his eyes widen. He excuses himself from his teammates, Techno sees, and he relaxes back against the bench as the champion holds out a hand, asking if he has a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno takes his own hand, the oddity of the situation not lost on him, and then the champion pulls him into the air and they settle on a roof nearby. Techno knows this roof well too - he can almost hear the laughter of his teammates and the splat of spaghetti against someone’s armour. He smiles - it is bittersweet, especially with the sun setting, unobstructed in their view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Why do you look like me?” Champion (easier, he decides, than ‘the champion) asks, turning to him with one perfectly manicured eyebrow cocked. Techno almost snorts at that - had he really been this insufferable during his golden days?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Well,” Techno drawls slowly, pushing his bangs out of his face and letting the sun warm his scarred cheeks. “Would you believe me if I said I was you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s fair,” Techno shrugs, finding himself smiling. He’s surprised. “You’ve-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ve-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Seen weirder in Skywars,” They finish in unison, and both exhale the same laugh when they meet surprised eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Somehow,” Champion says, looking off into the sunset and fingering the embroidery on the edge of his cloak (a cherished good luck gift from Tommy, Techno remembers), “I believe you a little more now that… that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“That,” Techno agrees. “You havin’ the time of your life out here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Something like that,” Champion nods, his voice soft and hopeful. He’s like the kid in the complete opposite direction, and Techno has to give him some credit for that. “It’s… I’m finally usin’ the thing I’m good at for somethin’ that makes me proud of it, you know? No more stupid ring. I’m the king of this place now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“It feels good, to finally matter,” Techno nods in agreement. He can’t make his voice tell Champion not to leave, to not answer the call, to not go to war over some vegetables and damage himself irreparably. Even if he could tell him, Techno isn’t sure he’d listen. He was too prideful, then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Last time I got a good thing, it lasted,” Champion ponders aloud. “Does this one, too? Assuming you’re me in the future.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Things change, but not for the worst,” Techno finds himself saying. “You’re gonna realise some things, and it’s gonna be good. It’s not gonna be easy, but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“When has anything ever been?” Champion chuckles, patting Techno on the shoulder. “Gotta say, I got boring. Look at you - when was the last time you brushed your hair?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Bold of you to assume you’re not just insufferable,” Techno fires back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey, hey, that’s what we tell Tommy,” Champion outright laughs, running his fingers over the pretty golden stitching. “How’s he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s okay, last I checked,” Techno nods with a shrug. That, at least, is true. Tommy is back with his traitorous friends and in his stupid dirt home, and the hole under Techno’s house is collecting dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“And Wilbur?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno feels his heart clench at the mention of the name of his late twin. Ghostbur isn’t Wilbur, but Ghostbur is all they have left. Techno’s never wanted anyone in this moment more than he wants Wilbur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s happy,” Techno finally says, deciding it’s technically true. Ghostbur is happy. He doesn’t know any better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Good,” Champion nods. “See you whenever I become you, I suppose?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno looks to see why he’s saying goodbye, but the sun is almost set and his view is blurring. He supposes it’s time to go. He doesn’t know how he knows this, but somewhere deep in his instincts he does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno offers a hand to shake, and Champion takes it. Champion’s grip fades from his hand soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
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</p><p>
  
  <span>The next version of himself he spots is someone he wants to smack upside the head. How much of the time-space laws would that break if he did?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>All in all, he’s accepted this situation. The oddity of it isn’t, to be fair, completely out of the picture for him. Yeah, he’s meeting past versions of himself. He’s got hundreds of voices screaming for blood in his head. Just another day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>There, however, is a raw, open hole forming in his heart, and that’s something he doesn’t know how to fix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The version of himself in front of him isn’t quite Champion - he’s a little older, the bags under his eyes a little larger. His hands are wrapped in thick bandages, and Techno’s own twinge in sympathy. However, this new him has a victorious grin on his face as he slumps back against a big tree, the shade seemingly lulling him to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno can’t help himself. He jabs his foot into the warmongering farmer’s side, taking sick satisfaction in the way he yelps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“What?” The smug asshole looks up. “What did I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>heh?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno realises belatedly that seeing a version of himself probably would raise some questions. He’s mentally cycling through names that aren’t swears to call this one - he settles on Competitor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno sits down next to him. “Happy with yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I will be when this,” Competitor gestures, and proceeds to wince, “gets explained. Why are you me? What kind of black market…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s not black market,” Techno snorts with a roll of his eyes. “What, like this is the weirdest thing that’s happened to you. Don’t try to kid me. I literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t even wanna know. Well, if you’re me, then what’s the one prank Tommy ever succeeded at and we’re too embarrassed to tell anyone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“He filled my doorway with plastic wrap and I walked right into it. I feel on my ass so hard it bruised.” Techno recites monotonously, ignoring how talk of Tommy pulls at his heart. He remembers not to miss the traitorous bastard - Tommy’d chosen his path, even after everything Techno did for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He was just a weapon again. Surprise surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Competitor snorts. “Well, that seals it. Do you know how this is even happening?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Not a clue. To be fair, man, I never know what’s going on, and I know you don’t either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Competitor pauses. “I would disagree, but it’s hard to disagree with a man who is literally just also me. Since you’re here, mind if I ask some questions for the future?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Go for it,” Techno waves his hand dismissively. He doesn’t know what the point of these meetings are yet, and he’s starting to wonder if he will. He’s got nothing better to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Why’d you kick me, asshat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno can’t help but laugh at that one - it was somehow exactly what he was expecting and not what he was expecting at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“You deserved it,” is what he settles on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“How?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno makes an abstract gesture at Competitor’s hands, and Competitor’s glare turns to the thickly-bandaged limbs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Once they get better, you have no bones to pick,” He grumbles, shoving Techno with his elbow. Techno just laughs again and stays silent - he doesn’t have the heart to tell him that his hands don’t get better - they hurt for the rest of his life. Or, at least as far into life as Techno himself has gotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Anything serious to ask me?” Techno finally says, after they stop laughing. They’d gone on for too long for how bad of a joke that was - but every time they met eyes, they’d fall into a new fit of laughter. It reminded Techno of him and Wilbur, and the hole in his heart grows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I mean,” Competitor starts tentatively, “It gets lonely out here, you know? I’m sure you remember. Is it a stupid now thing that I miss them? Do you miss them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno instantly knows exactly who he’s talking about, and it feels like someone is scooping chunks from his chest and dumping them out to be examined. The hole is growing. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> miss them, misses how they used to be, more than anything. He almost hates Competitor - himself, he supposes - for asking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Every day,” Techno admits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Maybe I should visit them more.” Competitor, much to Techno’s gratefulness, ignores the small break in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I’d drink to that.”</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  
  <span>Techno blinks and he’s in a horrifyingly familiar cave. He knows full well where he is, and down the staircase comes his tired twin, wrapped in that same brown jacket he’d died in. It’s strange to see it without the bloodied slash in the back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He slowly approaches Wilbur with his hands up, and almost melts in relief when Wilbur looks straight into his eyes. Techno nearly swallows his own tongue in shock when he wraps his arms around Wilbur only to fall through him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He whips around to see Wilbur walking to Tommy, who he pulls into his arms. Tommy closes his eyes and exhales and rests his head on Wilbur’s unbandaged shoulder. Techno figures this is his entrance, because he recognises the feel of this atmosphere, but he wonders for a moment why he couldn’t reach out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Slowly, he comes up to Wilbur’s side and wraps his arms around him and Tommy. If he positions it just right, his arms don’t phase through his little brothers, and he can hug them just like he would if he was there. His heart aches for them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>For his family, the world. He’d always known it, and while he hadn’t often said it, he’d made it known in any way he knew how.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He holds them for a moment in his ghostly embrace, knowing they have no idea he was there but hoping somehow the affection transfers over. Wilbur is in front of him, alive, and Tommy is still redeemable. Techno wonders for just a moment if he may still be, even now. He pushes away the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Heels click against the stone, and Techno hears his boots before he sees them. Another him comes down the stairs - very similar to him now, save now-his’ burned hands and bigger eyebags.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>His brothers walk through his arms to greet the anarchist before them. It hurts, that the version of himself here who kisses Tommy’s forehead in greeting, just how he always has, does not know that he has lost that ability. His heart goes out to the anarchist before he realises that maybe he can see him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno walks straight up to the anarchist, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’s not sure what he’s expecting when his hands phase right through, but he makes an involuntarily pained sound when it happens. He sounds like a kicked puppy, and hates it with every fiber of his being.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Why is this the one instance where he can’t communicate? Why is this the only timeline he can’t reach out and give advice? He doesn’t know if this is all a fever dream or not, but it hurts all the same. His insides are twisting, and he scrabbles at nothing as he pathetically tries to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Something about this makes him think back to something Tommy’d said to him long ago - something about a dream. It was in another life, in another time, in another story that isn’t his, and yet he latches on to what he remembers of it. He so badly wants this to be a dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno has read the story and knows this is wrong. These selves are meant to be from his future and give him the chance to right their wrongs, to be better before it’s too late - but they’re showing him instead everything he has lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He knows what he’s lost. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>(Do you?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Maybe, if this is a dream, he will wake up and the hole in his heart will be gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>His own voice echoes through the ravine. “And after all of that, you still believe you’re in the right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno whips around to find his current self, decked out in all of his royal winter regalia, staring him down with the coldest look Techno’s ever seen from his own red eyes. He settles for returning the stare, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I asked,” The other Techno crosses his arms. “Do you believe yourself innocent still?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I haven’t the faintest what you mean,” Techno drawls, adding some monotone in it to try to hide how absolutely not-okay with all of this he is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Then all this has been for nothing. Do you not regret anything you’ve done? Not to you? To them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno genuinely doesn’t know what this other-him is saying - He’s part of this nightmare, surely. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to be guilty for - He’d only done what was best for him. He’d only done his own right thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“All you’ve done is lie, don’t you see?” Other-Techno deadpans. “You lied to Pogtopia, you lied to your brothers, you lied to Tommy, you lied to </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You still are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I- what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t you remember telling them all it would all be okay?” Other-Techno jeers, throwing his hands up and beginning to pace. Pogtopia melts away slowly until they are in a dark snowfield, no lights of civilization in sight. Techno wraps his arms around himself. He misses his cloak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Who? I don’t- I don’t follow, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Everyone you met tonight, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblade</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Other-Techno spits out the name like it’s a disease. “You told them everything would be okay - does this all look okay to you? Is everything in your life okay? You don’t have to lie to me - I know you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>‘What do you-” Techno cuts himself off to cough. The wind is picking up, and snow is beginning to fall from the sky. “What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t you understand yet? I’m your guilt,” Other-Techno grins, just a little too wide. “I’m only doing what’s necessary for you to realise that you’re no victim here. Sure, your enemies are in the wrong, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>so are you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m not, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Did what was best,” Other-Techno mocks, grin melting into a sour frown. “For those around you? Were they even the best decisions for you? He came to you, Techno, asking for refuge, and you surveyed his usefulness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I let him stay!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“You let him stay and told him later that when he appeared you thought he was useless, but he’d become useful, so now he could know the truth. Sound familiar?” Other-Techno is forced to shout over the wind. Techno’s feet and hands are numb in the cold, and everything is too loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Is this not the path you have carved for yourself? You dare not take responsibility for the consequences of your reckless digging? Look what you’ve done!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“I haven’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>done anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Techno cries, clamping his hands over his ears and hating how pathetic he sounds. Somehow, Other-Techno’s voice remains crystal clear over the rushing wind that threatens to bowl Techno over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“He wanted to be your </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Other-Techno hisses into his ear, in front of him suddenly. “And you used him just like you think everyone used </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“They did!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Mmm,” Other-Techno muses. “Many of them most definitely did, but you’ve been villainizing the select few who didn’t for little reason. Think back, and I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> think - haven’t you hurt them just as much as they’ve hurt you? Don’t you realise you’re not the victim?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno cannot think or speak - words and snippets of memories are rushing through his head. Other-Techno releases his collar, and Techno drops to his knees in the snow. A gentle, rough hand places itself on his head as he gasps for air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Go home,” Other-Techno murmurs, and Techno feels his body lighten again. “Fix things. I’d rather not see you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Everything has faded before Techno can say </span>
  <em>
    <span>ditto</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Techno’s eyes snap awake in his bed. The first thing he registers is his lack of movement, but his fingers are still frigid to touch and to feel. His nose is still runny despite the cold, and there is something on his forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He reaches up. A damp towel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Techno sits up, bringing the glass of water he’s sure is from Ranboo to his dry lips. He’ll do some subtle thanks soon - right now, he pulls on his boots and pulls his mantle around his shoulder. The cloak is worn now, but he doesn’t miss the golden embroidery hidden under hastily-sewn on fluff for the winter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He steps out into the sunrise, fresh snow crunching under the soles of his boots. The heels don’t click in the snow - that makes no sense, why would they? He’s still a little out of it, he supposes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>If it was all a dream, why does he have the physical effects from every touch? It had to have been a dream. He’d woken up where he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>And yet, in the distance, he can see footsteps in the otherwise unbroken snow. His fingers tingle, cold just thinking about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>There is a structure. It’s small and there’s a chest and a sign and Techno wanders over to see it’s addressed to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblade Community</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That pulls a smile at the edge of his lips - it’s a humour he’s used to. He misses it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The book inside gleams in the sunlight - and while the language is a little odd, he sees it for what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Any other day, he would have scoffed and told Tommy to leave him be. When he considers doing that now, his chest aches. It’s reminiscent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Well, he figures, never hurts to check up on Tommy. He tells himself it’s only to make sure he’s staying out of trouble, but somewhere in his mind sees it for what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>It’s a gleaming second chance, and Techno’d be mad if he didn’t take it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello gang hope this meal will satiate you until i dump my next 4k word dumpster fire on you</p><p>do me a favour and feed me with comments no i will not stop asking it brings me happy chemical i do the content i want the feedback</p><p>love you all tho vv much</p><p>as per usual,</p><p>links (come say hi/and or yell at me for my sins!!!)</p><p>tumblr: http://bonespell.tumblr.com/ </p><p>instagram: https://instagram.com/bonespell._?igshid=ldttylwcn5ke</p></blockquote></div></div>
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